


Keep It Professional

by Kyradical



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Attempt at Humor, Avengers Family, Avengers Tower, Be Nice to Clint Barton, Bruce Feels, Confusion, F/M, Flirting, Humor, I'm sorry it's cliche, Love Triangles, Manhattan, New York City, Normal Life, Not Right Now, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Probably pretty bad flirting, Romance, Sassy Clint, She's supposed to flirt with Bruce but then Clint happened, Smut, assistant to the avengers, eventually, gonna be so boring I'm sorry, potentially
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:12:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyradical/pseuds/Kyradical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celia is hired by Pepper to fill her former post of errand-runner, organizer, practically babysitter when  the team are in need of some excitement. She is young, professional and polite, seemingly pretty boring,  but the team takes to her fairly easily.<br/>One Clint Barton can't resist poking some fun at a newcomer, however, Bruce's interest is also peeked by the young lady's consideration and thoughtful nature.<br/>Celia tries to keep it all professional whilst maintaining a good sense of humour, but being in close quarters with this eclectic bunch day in and day out certainly leads to some unavoidable, slightly less than appropriate interactions.</p><p>I'm shit at summaries just try it out okay yolo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep It Professional

Celia drew in a deep breath as she entered the tower, the front door held open by an attractive young man in a suit. She thanked him as she passed and he nodded. Approaching the reception area, she let out her breath to none and smiled brightly at the beautiful brunette behind the counter.

“Good morning and welcome to Stark Tower, how may I help you?” She practically sang to Celia.

“I’m here to see Miss Potts, please; I have a meeting with her this morning.”

“Miss Hansen?” The receptionist asked after referring to her computer screen.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“If you give me just a moment I’ll call – “

“No need, Karen, I’m here!”

Celia looked up from the brunette, Karen, and turned in the direction of the light voice that had called out. Pepper Potts, slender, and serene in looks and in demeanour, strode towards her with a measured poise.

“Good morning, Miss Potts, thank you for asking me back,” Celia said with full enthusiasm. Pepper beamed at her and placed a gentle hand on Celia’s back,

“Thank you for being a perfect candidate! Follow me, dear, let’s get straight to it.”

Pepper led Celia in the direction of the elevators, her pace swift and steady, matching Celia’s intuitively. Celia glanced over her shoulder and thanked Karen the Receptionist, who chuckled and waved at the acknowledgement. In the lift, Pepper insisted that Celia called her by her first name and gave her a warming, albeit surprising, pep talk regarding her new job.

“You’re now manning my former post, and I know it sounds daunting when I put it that way, but I assure you that I don’t expect you to work miracles. Hell, I certainly didn’t! As we discussed on Monday, you are basically a reminder personified, as well as a helping hand, an alarm clock, whatever you’re needed to be. You’ll be working under me, doing all the little things that need to be done, but that I simply can’t get around to doing nowadays… God, I’m making it sound so trivial! Don’t be fooled by my words, dear, you are a missing piece in the crazy clockwork of this tower.”

The lift opened with a ting and the two stepped out into a large living space.

“And as your boss, I give you full authority over all the hooligans you’ll be minding! They have to listen to _you_.”

Celia chuckled. “Santa’s little helper,” she joked.

“Exactly!” Pepper laughed. “Keeping all the elves in place.”

The two shared a pleasant moment of silence as they strode across the living room and over to a large glass desk off to the one side. From it, Pepper picked up a thick diary and a transparent glass rectangle, rimmed in black.

“All existing appointments, meetings and other commitments have been recorded in this diary since the damage to the tower knocked our systems around, and just need to be entered into a digital calendar. It’s a chore – unfortunately, your chore – but once it’s done you can simply continue adding events as they arise. This,” she pointed at the glass rectangle, “Is your tablet, completely ready to use. Feel free to use it personally too, but in terms of work, it makes sense to use technology that is compatible with the house.”

“Of course,” Celia said, internally laughing at the term ‘house’. She glanced down the hallway that ended in what seemed to be a bar, approximately thirty five metres away. Not to mention that the hall also extended another fifteen or so metres in the opposite direction. _House_.

“And in terms of layout, would you care to give me a tour so I can gauge where to find anyone I might need?”

“By all means!” Pepper gestured back to the living area with a sunken lounge in the centre. “As you can see this is the main living space of the residential floors. Through that arch you can see the kitchen,” she walked towards it as she spoke, Celia still marvelling slightly at her inherent grace.

“Follow me,” Pepper grabbed Celia’s attention back and made her way down the longer of the two hallways.

“First on the left is Steve’s room, to the right is a full bathroom."  Next on their left was a small recess with two arm chairs, the entire outer wall made of glass, as the rest of the tower’s sides were. Sunlight warmed the suede seats and glinted off the glass coffee table, laden with books. It was actually quite quaint.

“Steve likes to read here,” Pepper explained, she gestured to the second door to their left and named it Bruce’s room, elaborating that he had an en suite, and finally they entered the bar at the end of the hall. The room was enormous, extremely modern in design in keeping with the rest of the building, and decked out with a massive chaise lounge, barrel arm chairs, upholstered barstools and a magnificent view of the city through its standard glass wall. To the left, a staircase led up to what Pepper said was the rooftop bar area, for special occasions.

“Down the other hall are Clint and Natasha’s respective bedrooms, both en suite. They don’t always stay here for long periods, as it can get a bit rowdy being in such close quarters.”

Celia suppressed the urge to scoff at “close” – the reality being far from it, as far as houses go – and instead responded with, “I can imagine so.”

She followed Pepper back towards the living room and was given a quick run-down of how to operate the remote that controlled the exit to the balcony, as well as being pointed around the kitchen for things like first aid kit, light switches, where to find coffee and mugs and snacks should she need or be asked to whip up.

“It’s a lot of information, but it comes to you quickly, I promise,” Pepper appeared so genuinely sympathetic that Celia felt her eyes widen.

“It’s not a problem at all, Pepper, thank you! If I have any more questions I won’t hesitate to ask.”

Pepper smiled, “Fantastic. I have complete faith in you, Celia. You’re experienced, professional and cute and that, dear, is the package to have.”

“You flatter me,” Celia laughed, “Thank you, and again for this opportunity.”

“An absolute pleasure,” Pepper sang. She checked the time on her delicate gold wristwatch and announced that she was due for an ‘ _Industries_ ’ meeting in the next fifteen.

“The desk in the living room is all yours, Celia, use it as you will,” Pepper declared as she collected a pair of folders from the counter and opened them to assess their contents. "I should be back in the next ninety minutes and we can talk further.”

“Perfect, Pepper, I’ll get to digitally recording the diary,” Celia stated, shifting the diary and tablet from one arm to the other and starting for the desk.

“Steve should be in the gym with Clint, and Bruce is in the lab. They’ve been told we hired you so they’ll likely expect to see you here,” Pepper called as she strode to the elevator.

“Sorry, Pepper, where’s the gym? And labs, for that matter?” Celia asked, looking up from her shining tablet screen.

“Oh my goodness, I forgot about that! Both are on the floor below: gym to the left and lab to the right, also on the floor below that. Bruce usually sticks to those.”

“Thanks, Pepper.”

Pepper smiled as she entered the lift, and gave a small wave before the doors slid shut. Celia took in her surroundings in awe from her seat. The interior design was immaculate, the wall of windows let on the most gorgeous morning view of Manhattan, and her new boss was wonderful and oh-so-considerate. “Lucky girl,” she murmured to herself as she woke her tablet and followed the setup guides.

She worked steadily and systematically through the diary, colour-coordinating each of the team members’ appointments and setting different notification tones for each kind of appointment, dividing the bulk into Appearance, Meeting, and Assignment Call (the latter two applying to the whole team in turn, whilst ‘Appearance’ pertaining mostly to Tony Stark). Celia was amazed by the sheer number of _meetings_ the Avengers had to attend on a weekly basis. She supposed most of them included the strategizing and coordinating of upcoming missions, but nonetheless she was surprised. Out of the bunch, Stark had the most appearances, and they were spaced regularly, she noticed, most likely to maintain a steady image and keep him relevant. Pepper is a smart woman.

Just over an hour into her task, she was rounding up the last few appointments. She’d made progress much quicker than she had expected to, and so transferred her contact list to her tablet as well, and made notes of all her friends and family members birthdays, as well as reminders to go gift shopping whenever the time came. 

She was just saving the date of her grandfather’s birthday when the lift hummed and opened with a ting. Stepping out in all his glory was Steve Roger’s with a small white towel rolled lengthways and draped around his neck. His arms bulged as they folded back on themselves, hands grasping the ends of the towel that rested on his chest. Steve still faced the elevator as he walked out, talking to a man who emerged momentarily afterwards. It was Clint. He was better looking than the pictures.  Hell, they both were.

 Celia stood, and moved around the desk, hoping to not surprise either of them. She was fairly certain that would not be a great idea.

Clint spotted her first, as he was facing forward when they stepped into the living room. His eyes narrowed a little, but she noticed his mouth bent in a slight smile. Steve followed his gaze and regarded her curiously as he slowed his steps. “Good morning,” Celia said brightly, pulling out her backup confidence for emergency situations such as this. “My name is Celia, Pepper hired me yesterday. A pleasure to meet you both,” Celia stepped up to Steve with her hand extended, a bright smile on her face. He matched her smile, though his lovely eyes definitely one-upped her own, and he shook her hand. Gentle but firm. Don’t ask how that’s possible. “Steve Rogers,” he declared, though he certainly didn’t need to, “Pleasure to meet you Celia.” She nodded and made to shake Clint’s hand, finding his ready and waiting for its turn. His shake was strong, and something about his gaze demanded her attention. “Clint Barton, but you knew that right?” He smirked. “It’s my job to know now, isn’t it?” Clint chuckled, as did Steve, she wasn’t sure why because it wasn’t a particularly funny statement but she wasn’t going to question it.  Go with the flow. Especially a funny flow.

“So you’re mini Pepper?” Clint asked as he headed to the kitchen and Celia returned to her desk. “I can only hope to be, sir,” she called, saving her calendar note as it was and setting the completed diary to one side. She looked up to see Steve standing against the kitchen counter, smiling amusedly at Clint, who regarded her with curiosity from the sink.

“Sir?” He repeated with a grin. He looked down at the glass he was filling and pulled in his smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, doll,” he assured her, over his shoulder.

Celia mentally noted that Clint was amused by the honorific and decided to always use it for him, if only for the kick.  She had a feeling he wouldn’t complain.

Celia picked up her tablet and walked into the kitchen, standing across the island counter from Steve.

“Mr Rogers, you’re expected for a meeting with a ‘Director Fury’ this afternoon, downstairs in the main conference room. That starts at 2pm - shall I remind you again closer to the time?” Celia peered up at him expectantly.

“I’ll remember, thank you,” he smiled at her. It’s like he was trying to stop her heart.

“Great,” Celia referred to the tablet again and was about to ask a question when Clint piped up.

“Anything on my agenda?” He leaned nonchalantly against the counter. His bicep flexed as he took a sip of water. Sure that he did it on purpose, Celia suppressed a smile and said, “No, you’re free to do what you want, sir.”

That much I’m aware of, but do I have any appointments to make?”

His shoulders were squared out and his eyes were alive. He was toying with her. She let out a laugh and said, “No, sir.” He feigned disappointment and asked what on earth, then, could he get up to.

“You can show me to Dr Banner’s lab. I have some questions for him regarding his presentations at NYU,” Celia looked to Clint, who set his glass down and gestured through the arch.

“Right this way.”

Celia nodded at Steve politely before following the painfully well-built Clint to the elevator. They stepped in and as the doors shut, Clint fixed her with a stare. He couldn’t be more than two inches taller than her, so his gaze was rather direct. And, she felt, unavoidable. She drew in a breath, readying to make small talk, but was interrupted.

“Where are you from?”

“Upper East Side. My family are thoroughbred New Yorkers. Yourself?”

“You don’t have the accent,” Clint pointed out. He’d avoided her question and she noted to leave the subject untouched in future.

“My grandparents are very posh; they raised me for the most part.”

“Parents?”

 _He’s awfully direct isn’t he?_ She thought. Halfway between sceptical and amused.

 “Divorced years ago. Mother moved away; father busy keeping a company running smoothly.”

“Estranged mother, occupied father, raised by relatives in a big city. You sound like a cliché romance novel character.”

She couldn’t assess his expression, so she figured to make a joke of it.

“It would be more cliché if I was raised in a small town and moved here.”

“You have a point. You’re still an archetype.”

“Are you intending to write my biography?”

He smiled at that and headed out the open lift doors. He turned to face her as she followed, and fell in step. “Are you intending to spill all the beans?” He gestured for her to head towards a large glass door.

“Got a can opener?” Celia asked offhandedly as she headed into the lab. Clint’s laugh rumbled in his chest. She turned to see him still in the doorway.

“Banner should be around the corner. I’ll see you back upstairs,” and with that he winked and left. _Kind of abrupt_ , she thought.

Celia clutched her tablet and wended her way around metal tables and machines. She rounded a corner to her right, and took in the long lab, separated here and there by glass walls or metal screens. At the end of the room was a small sitting area, she assumed for when Dr Banner wished to rest a moment and ruminate. As she got closer, Celia noticed a slumped form in one of the arm chairs. _Shit_. She hadn’t intended having to disturb anyone on her first day. She paused for a moment, juggling whether to wake him, offer him refreshments, walk him to bed and ask her questions later, or leave him to rest, and converse when he woke on his own. She decided on the latter, simply due to the fact that his current position looked as though it would require physiotherapy to recover from.

She bent over, placing her hand gently on his arm and pressing it.

“Doctor Banner,” she said quietly.

She patted his arm a couple of times, slightly harder than before.

“Doctor Banner.”

He stirred, his arm sliding and falling, jolting him. He murmured incoherently and lifted his head, spectacles askew. He raised a hand to set his glasses straight, and shook his head to wake himself. He was shocked to find Celia standing next to him, having taken a step back to allow him room. She held the tablet in one arm and clasped her arm with the other hand.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t intend to wake you but I was worried you’d wake up sore.”

“No problem, no problem… Sorry, I must have passed out.”

He stood and attempted to fix up his appearance. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met before,” he said, running his one hand through his hair, extending the other toward her.

“Celia Hanson; Miss Potts hired me yesterday. Official errand-runner,” Celia joked.

“Ah, yes, Pepper mentioned,” his smile was kind, “Bruce Banner.” He shook her hand.

“Good to meet you, Doctor. Is there anything I can get you now that you’re awake?” Celia asked, dropping his hand and peering at him.

“Is that why you came to me?” He seemed confused at the notion.

“No, sir, I actually had some questions about your upcoming seminars, but that can wait until after you’ve rested. I’ll walk you upstairs?”

Bruce seemed amused, but bashful. He checked his watch.

“I’ve slept enough, I think. A shower sounds great…” He trailed off.

Celia nodded and gestured for him to take the lead. Together they wound their way back out the lab and Bruce flicked off the lights as the big glass door closed behind them.

“Have you been here for long, Celia?”

Celia shot Bruce a sidelong glance, but he caught her and she smiled.

“I only arrived at 10am today. Pepper gave me a quick tour of upstairs and had to leave for a meeting, so I got busy transferring some data.”

Bruce nodded, “Have you met any of the others?”

“Yes, Mr Rogers and Mr Barton finished up in the gym around the time I finished my first task.”

“Clint must like you.”

Celia looked at Bruce enquiringly.

“Redhead,” he stated.

Celia chuckled and swished her ponytail with one hand. She was more than used to knocks about being a ginger.

“I’m kidding,” Bruce assured her, “I don’t mean to offend.”

“Oh no, not at all!” Celia touched his arm momentarily. “You guys will be outnumbered soon, though, if you aren’t careful. Between Pepper, Miss Romanov and myself, ranging from strawberry blonde to fire-engine red… You won’t be able to escape our fierce presences.”

Bruce laughed heartily, agreeing with Celia’s observation. 

“You said you had questions?” Bruce asked as Celia stepped into the elevator.

“Yes, I noticed that you don’t have transportation booked for Friday’s presentation at NYU; shall I arrange a car for you for, say, thirty minutes before your scheduled start?”

“Make it an hour,” Bruce suggested, “That way I can set up and catch up with the dean before my lecture starts.”

Celia hummed in rejoinder, tapping away on her tablet.

“The same for all three?”

“Please. There are a few professors who have asked to speak with me before I address their respective classes.”

The lift opened and they stepped out in tandem.

“Anything to eat, Dr Banner?” Celia chirped as she wandered back to the kitchen, subconsciously looking for Clint and his unorthodox demeanour.

“I’ll grab something after a shower, thank you, Celia.”

“You’re welcome.”

With that, he turned to enter his bedroom, and Celia entered the kitchen. She started, letting out a small ‘ _Oh!_ ’ as she found herself face to face with Natasha Romanov. She took a quick step back and freed her right hand of the tablet.

“Miss Romanov, I’m sorry, I didn’t expect to run into you. I’m Celia Hanson.”

Natasha shook her hand and smiled mildly, “No problem. Pepper told us to expect you. Nice to meet you; I’m Natasha as you know.”

Celia nodded and stood aside so that she could pass, a bottle of water in tow.

“Anyone here?”

“Yes, ma’am, Dr Banner, Mr Barton and Mr Rogers.”

“Thank you,” Natasha sauntered over to what Celia remembered as Clint’s door and let herself in.

Celia set the tablet on the counter and got herself a glass of water. She checked her phone for texts and then proceeded to pull out ingredients to make a hearty pasta dish. She’d joked with Pepper during her interview the other day that she could play house if need be and keep everyone from starving. Why not.

 _Fuck knows what superheroes eat. Do they carbo-load all the time? Will they eat my pasta? I mean once they start they won’t stop. Pepper said they have to listen to me so I could just order them to_.

Celia had the pasta on the boil and had just thickened the sauce when a deep voice sounded from behind her.

“Busy, are we?”

Celia glanced over her shoulder at Clint.

“I had time,” she sang.

Clint reached around her and dipped his finger in the pot of sauce.

“It smells great,” he intoned, before sucking his finger, “Tastes good too.”

“Don’t make me hit you with this wooden spoon,” Celia cautioned, twitching an eyebrow.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Celia didn’t respond, only grinned. _To allow him the satisfaction of an answer, or allow him to create his own satisfaction by interpreting her silence the way he wanted to? Decisions, decisions._

“No answer?”

“No.”

“No, _sir_.”

Celia turned to Clint, spoon held aloft, and said, “I believe it’s ‘ _ma’am_ ’, actually.”

Clint said nothing, only continued sitting at the island counter, smugly watching her cook.

“Miss Romanov was looking for you, I believe,” Celia said dreamily as she stirred the tubes of pasta.

“Yeah, she found me,”

“Were you hiding?”

“Do I seem like someone who hides?”

“You seem like someone who likes to be found.”

Silence ensued. Celia looked up from her noodles and sauce. Clint sat with his hands clasped in front of him, and he examined her openly.

“I apologise if that wasn’t okay.”

“Don’t apologise. You’re ballsy, I like it. You don’t seem like you’re full of shit but you are.”

Celia shot him a sidelong glance. He winked. A new voice joined the conversation

 

“Enjoying a show, Barton?”

“I haven’t even started stripping yet,” Celia jested.

“Why wasn’t I here sooner?”

Celia turned to find an extremely snazzy looking Tony Stark standing in the kitchen, phone in hand. Pepper walked in behind him.

“Oh my goodness, Celia,” laughed Pepper, “Have they bullied you into the kitchen already?”

“I wasn’t asked, actually. This was my own initiative.” Celia waved her spoon around like a royal sceptre of domestication. “I thought I’d do something useful until you came back.”

“Well, it smells amazing,” Pepper enthused, tugging a bottle of wine off the rack and making to open it. 

 

Celia took the noodles off the heat and turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel and stepping in front of Tony. “Mr Stark,” she began, “I’m Celia. Pepper hired me yesterday – I’m the new her.” She grasped his hand. He looked at her over his sunglasses.

“Good to meet ya,” he said, and surreptitiously looked her up and down behind his shades. Celia supposed she looked quite silly cooking up a storm in a chiffon blouse, pencil skirt and small nude heels.

“You too, sir,” she beamed and resumed her culinary mission, scoping the cabinets for bowls. Pepper pointed out the cutlery draw, clearly sensing Celia’s intent. _This woman knows what I want to do before I do._

Celia poured her sauce into the pasta and stirred it all together into a creamy, carbsy, glorious mess. “Lunch is up for anyone who would like,” Celia announced to the room at large, twirling her hands in the air. Clint was on his feet in a flash and dishing himself up an enormous portion. Celia smirked at his enthusiasm.

“Pepper,” she started, Pepper humming in response from behind her wine glass, “Could I get a list of the amenities you use most often? For transport and what not… I’d like to book a car for Dr Banner.”

“Of course! Jarvis?” She called to no one in particular.

“Yes, Miss Potts?” Resounded throughout the room.

“Please transfer all my service contacts to Miss Hansen’s tablet.”

“Right away, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.”

 

Celia looked at Pepper expectantly, hoping for some kind of explanation. Pepper met her gaze and seemed confused for a moment.

“Oh,” she realised, “Jarvis is the artificial intelligence system Tony designed. He runs throughout the house and will respond to you if you call him. He can help you with almost anything.

“Amazing,” Celia murmured, unconsciously staring at the ceiling.

 

“Something smells fantastic,” came Bruce’s voice as the man himself appeared in the archway. “Good afternoon everyone.” A chorus of greetings met him in response.

“I made pasta if you would like some, Dr Banner,” Celia offered, finishing off a second glass of water. Bruce came up to the counter keenly, and set about dishing up.

“You didn’t mention you’d be our in-house chef,” he said softly.

“I’m not, but I had time to kill and a good impression to make,” Celia disclosed.

“Well you certainly made a good impression,” he said, inhaling the aroma, “Before you made the food, that is.”

Celia looked at him curiously, but he continued to focus on putting the lid back on the pot. He thanked her and went to sit beside Clint, who had wolfed down his meal and was now chatting to Tony about something the likes of which Celia couldn’t grasp. Celia consulted the tablet and decided she would take a walk down to the dry-cleaners to fetch the clothing that would have been ready this morning. Whilst out, she intended to stop by her grandfather’s workplace and fill him in on her morning. She didn’t want to hang around the tower looking spare – at least if she was out, the impression would be that she was busy.

“If anyone needs me, please don’t hesitate to call,” Celia set the tablet down and headed out the kitchen, only to be called after by Clint.

“Where are you off to?”

“Dry cleaners down the street,” she replied.

“That’s not exciting at all,” he challenged, hopping out of his seat. “I can come with you.”

“I suppose so.”

“It wasn’t a question, was it?” Clint smirked as he passed her.

 

Celia tittered and shook her head; looking up, she caught Bruce staring thoughtfully after Clint.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this long as fuck first chapter. As you've likely noticed, I'm a sucker for descriptive settings, so a lot of my word count is attributed to that.
> 
> I wanted to write a fic more centered on Bruce's relationship with an OC because I love Bruce and he deserves attention too god dammit. But Clint started dogging her and I didn't mind it so shit, now it's going to be a cliche love triangle tale.
> 
> All kinds of feedback are more than appreciated!


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